Keeping Forever
by sara-cupcaked
Summary: His presence and words change everything and nothing, but for now, it’s enough. Post 9x10, GSR.


**A/N**: I wanted to write something different compared to all the other post ep pieces, and this is nothing too angsty so I hope you enjoy it :) Beta-ed by a wonderful friend, Keegan.

----------------------------**  
Keeping Forever**  
-----------------------------

Her heart didn't stop the moment she saw him standing there. Her breath didn't catch, she didn't gasp; her world didn't stop spinning nor did it speed up.

She inhales and exhales and the world continues around her – the distant sounds of insect activity, the sun beating down on them, the quiet sway of the treetops.

The only thing that changes is the slow, dull beat of her heart that starts to race, faster and faster and faster. With each beat she feels the old fractures resurface, reminding her of everything that had happened in the past months. It hurts, but in a good kind of way as she stares at him, feeling her heart awaken.

Can't be Grissom, her mind tells her, that can't be him.

The Grissom she knows is in Vegas, some 2300 miles away, and clueless about her location. The Grissom she knows wears dark slacks and black oxford tees, never khakis with beige shirts and backpacks, and she cannot recall having seen him sweat.

Ever.

But then again, she cannot think of anyone else in this world that would don such a silly hat; the same one she has grown to like. She stares at him, silently contemplating her next move even though her heart knows what it wants.

Working here in the rainforest, her mind dominates her heart; each and every move is dictated by rational thought, calculated risks and newfound experience.

Of late however, acting with her heart involved more risks with less than desired results, and it is easy to stop acting according to its emotions after leaving Vegas for the second time.

But today, right here right now, for the first time since being stationed in the middle of the Corcovado National Park, she stops thinking and rationalising and allows her heart, that fractured thing she had stopped listening to, full control.

She smiles nervously as her heart continues to beat painfully against her ribcage, reminding her of what she has missed.

When he smiles shyly in return, she feels her eyes start to tear up.

_Grissom._

She takes two tentative steps forward and before she knows it, he has his arms around her, hands running through her hair, and he is kissing her so sweetly, forcefully and almost angrily.

Passionately.

She feels him on her fingertips, on her lips, in the air around her. He fills her senses, calms her yet burns her.

With each kiss he presses to her lips, he lifts her heart a notch higher, thinning her air supply, making her dizzy. She drops the camera and pulls him closer, as if it is possible to soothe her heart with their current proximity.

"I'm sorry," he says against her lips, and it is then she realises her cheeks are wet.

His presence and words change everything and nothing, but for now, it's enough.

--

She wakes up abruptly to the deep breathing coming from her side, one she associates with Vegas, disorientating her for a moment. The sheets are rough against her bare skin but she ignores it and blinks rapidly instead, looking through the gauzy mosquito netting to see the inside of her small but homely tent.

She exhales in relief; the humidity around them confirms that she is in Costa Rica. _They_ are in Costa Rica, she corrects herself, and the dawning realisation causes her to smile.

Turning her head, she sees Grissom sleeping by her side, his chest rising and falling under the thin cotton blanket they share.

_He's really here._

It is surreal; one moment she is documenting a rare _Cebus capucinus_ in the middle of a rainforest and the next he is kissing her and they are inside the tent and she is pulling back the mosquito netting and pushing him down onto the thin mattress.

To be honest, she doesn't know what to feel. The main emotion is, of course, the incredulous wonder and happiness that yes, the man she loves is really here, breathing in the same moist air she is.

But buried beyond that is the faintest doubt he will leave once again, something that pits her realistic mind against her emotional heart.

He stirs beside her but doesn't wake and she turns to look at him once more, noting his damp forehead. Sleeping with the humidity is something that takes getting used to, and she restrains herself from touching him, from feeling him under her fingertips, lest he wakes.

Instead, she leans as close as she can to his cheek, inhaling the scent of his skin. She can almost feel his rough beard and soft skin against her lips; almost taste the salt on his skin. It makes her heart ache, knowing that she can just as easily lose him as she had gained him in her life.

She pulls away to see his eyelids open, making her wince.

"Sorry," she whispers, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No," he replies just as softly, "this is the best sleep I've had in a long time."

Her heart starts to thump again, and she brushes his forehead lightly with the back of her hand. "The humidity doesn't bother you?"

"It does, actually, but I have you."

With that, he intertwines his fingers with hers and closes his eyes, falling asleep once more.

Something inside of her flutters and she grips his hand a little tighter, reveling the way her heart is healing.

--

Four days pass quickly, with the better part of the day filled with documenting local wildlife, evenings with conversations and nights spent together.

Working here feels almost like working in Vegas again, with the camera work and note taking, the working and living together. The death and shadows are replaced instead with thriving life and brilliant sunlight, the dark clothing with hiking gear, the Las Vegas Police Department with the Sea Shepherd Headquarters.

During their evening conversations, held a quarter mile away from her tent on a moss-covered rock, he tells her about their old team but glazes over the cases, about the new members, Riley and Langston, about Hank.

She laps all this information up, feeling the doubt within her thin as the contentment settles. One day soon, maybe, she'll ask him about Natalie and the talk in his office during Pamela Adler's case.

Their nights are spent without words, just skin against skin and deep kisses and breathless moments, bridging the distance they had put between them in the past.

This, a tent in the middle of a rainforest, is home.

On the fifth day since his arrival, she wakes at the break of dawn to find the bed empty, him gone.

For a while, she just sits there in the dark, trying to comprehend his disappearance. He is, in a way, still there – his scent on the sheets, on her body, in her mind, all around her. His backpack, his clothes, his physical presence – gone.

Again.

That nagging doubt at the back of her mind, one she had thought he had eased, is back, rising and falling all around her like waves, dragging her under. Her eyes tear up but she shakes her head; her heart seems to stop beating altogether. Before she can move, the flaps of the tent open to reveal a flushed and sweaty Grissom, straw hat and all.

"Hey," he says beaming, excitement radiating off from him. He shrugs off his backpack and pulls away the netting, extending a hand to help her up from the mattress.

"You didn't leave a note," she says, dazed; the relief and anger swirling inside of her spilling over, but she accepts his hand anyway.

"I'm sorry, honey, but this couldn't wait," he says excitedly, gesturing to his bag. "I finally found it fourteen miles from here, and according to—"

As he looks at her, his smile falters and it dawns on him exactly why her own cheeks are so flushed, making him inhale sharply. "Sara, I wasn't thinking, I…I'm sorry."

"Just leave a note the next time, okay? This jungle isn't exactly the safest place to be, and I'd want to know where you're at before I notify the HQ and make a police report or jump to conclusions or presume the worst," she takes a deep breath, realising she has fallen into her bad habit and had started to overtalk. "But I should trust you."

She looks up to see him staring at her, looking sheepish and guilty, while her cheeks are starting to burn with embarrassment for overreacting.

"I'm sorry," they blurt out at the same time, breaking the silence.

"What are you sorry for?" he asks, amusement showing behind his blue eyes.

"For not trusting you. I, uh, thought you left."

"Sara, I'll never leave without you," he says firmly but kindly. "Do you want to know what I brought back?"

"Sure," she says quickly, glad for the subject change.

"According to pre-Columbian Costa Rican customs, _Byra indica_ is a symbol of everlasting love, and I found a whole area sprouting with them. They're only found in this part of the country. Here," he says, tucking a rich blue flower behind her right ear gently and drawing another from his bag, "this is for you."

She takes it from his hand, admiring its hue and impossibly tiny petals. A rush of emotions seem to course through her; anger and disappointment from the possible idea that he had left to shock and quiet joy at the notion of him walking through fourteen miles of damp foliage to gather flowers for her.

"If one flower means forever, what do two signify?"

"Forever and ever," he says without hesitating, a shy smile on his lips.

She leans forward to kiss him soundly, the erratic beating of her heart fills her ears, and she is amazed at how a misunderstanding can result in the single most romantic moment in her life.

--

One week and two days since his arrival, she stops him in his tracks while in search of a Scarlet Macaw.

_I'm ready._

Just two day ago, he told her about everything she had run away from: Natalie Davis, a case that involved an abused little boy who murdered, the Dick and Jane Killer, Tom Adler's future; in short, the horrors of Las Vegas. He told her about Heather Kessler, about how her video affected him, about why he never replied.

The more he spoke, the more she listened, and the more her heart felt whole. It was healing, fractures fusing; banishing the doubt that lingered in the back of her mind.

He was opening up and letting her in unlike ever before, and she was healing.

"I love you," he said quietly, with nothing but the sound of rain in the background, and for the first time, she believed him without a doubt; or rather, her heart believed without a doubt.

"Gil," she says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between them. He lowers his camera to turn to her, his gaze questioning. She takes his palm, much to his surprise, and presses it to her heart. "How does this feel?"

"Right," he answers immediately, and her heart twists at the matter-of-fact way he answers, at the honesty in his voice.

She smiles and he tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek in the process. They stand there, his hand over her heart and she closes her eyes, savouring the steady beat of a heart that's healed.

--

**A/N2: **Corcovado National Park exists in Costa Rica, and it is one of the few places that Scarlet Macaws are found. The pre-Columbian Costa Rican custom and _Byra indica_, a flower with tiny blue petals, do not exist.


End file.
